


The Good Body

by beeyouteaful



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeyouteaful/pseuds/beeyouteaful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom knows something's wrong with his girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Body

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this piece comes from the play "The Good Body" by Eve Ensler

“I dunno. I just feel cold and numb inside,” she told me. I plopped down on the sofa next to her and draped my arm around her shoulders.

“But nothing’s bothering you in particular?”

“No.” She wouldn’t look at me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I frowned and squeezed her shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll make us some pasta. You can sit on the counter and keep me company.”

“I don’t really want pasta tonight, Tom.”

“But it’s your favorite.”

“I’m just not hungry for it.”

“Well, what do you want instead?”

“I’m really not even that hungry at all, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think I’m going to take a bath and head to bed,” she said, finally looking up at me.

“Alright,” I replied with a sad smile. She rose from the couch and started to leave, but I took her hand in mine before she could get too far. “I love you. You know that, right?” She forced a smile and squeezed my hand before retreating to the bedroom. When I heard the door latch, I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. Something was obviously wrong. I decided that it would be better to give her some space for a bit, so I made some pasta, making sure to put some in a tupperware container in case (y/n) wanted some later. I brought my plate into the living room and set it on the coffee table, then went back into the kitchen to grab some white wine to pair with my meal.

I returned to the couch with the bottle and a glass and turned on the news. A portly man appeared behind a round desk, relaying mostly depressing news. I flipped through the channels to find something more interesting and was about to give up until I heard a familiar name.

_"Today's top story is about everyone's favorite Marvel villain, Tom Hiddleston."_

"Here we go," I sighed.

 _"The 34-year-old actor attended the British Academy of Film and Television Arts Awards last night, where he showed off his brand new arm candy."_ I turned the volume down a bit because I knew nothing good could come from this, and I didn't want (y/n) to hear it. _"The unknown woman accompanied the leading man to the awards show and appears to be his lover by the way he was making eyes at her all night. Fans erupted on Twitter and Facebook in heated arguments about the possible girlfriend, some even attacking her appearance and claiming that Hiddleston is 'theirs only.'"_

"Fuck." I placed my plate back on the coffee table and rubbed my face.

 _"For more on Tom Hiddleston visit the TMZ website."_ I turned the television off and stared at the black screen for a few moments. I knew this was a possibility, but I didn't want to think about it. Now, it was clear that I had to do something. After a beat, I slipped my phone out of my back pocket and went to the website. I searched my name and the BAFTAs, and sure enough, there was backlash for days in the comments:

_"Her boobs are too small. Tom's hands are made for bigger breasts!"_

_"How long have they been together? Did he knock her up or is she normally that big?"_

_"I don't know about you but my butt would look better next to Tom's #skinnylove"_

_"I wish someone would look at me like he looked at her."_

Though the last sentence made my heart swell, I felt anger and sadness bubble up inside me. There was no doubt this was the reason she was upset. Not only was I angry at myself for not protecting her from this, but I was angry with my so-called fans for driving her to think of herself as anything but perfect. She wasn't eating because of these harsh comments; they had convinced her to harm herself this way, and that was certainly the last straw. I took the matter into my own hands. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I composed a fresh tweet. Right as I was about to tap the publish button, I stopped and reread the statement. It didn't sound like the rest of my tweets. I was noticeably irritated. I decided to delete it all and go for the "I'm disappointed in you" vibe. I didn't publish that one either. I wanted to work things out between the two of us before doing anything irrational. _Always keep personal affairs separate from professional ones, Hiddleston._

"Babe?" I turned to face her voice. She stood in the hallway in only her fluffy bath robe. "I can't sleep." I flashed a small smile and motioned for her to join me on the couch. She moved over to me slowly and plopped down.

“Pinot Grigio?” I offered her my almost-full glass. She took it and downed the wine, handing it back to me. "Are you hungry?" She shook her head. "What's on your mind? You know you can tell me anything."

"Nothing. I just can't sleep." I frowned again. She looked so crestfallen. "Can I have more wine?"

"You haven't eaten anything."

"So?"

"You need something to absorb the alcohol."

"Please?"

"I don't want you to black out again." My mind flashed briefly to the night spent in the waiting room at the hospital after she drank herself into oblivion on an empty stomach.

"Fine." She slumped back down and nestled into my side.

"Darling, if something is the matter, I can't fix it unless you tell me." I rubbed my hand over her arm soothingly. She sighed.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course I do. You know I do."

"So why doesn't anyone else?" her voice cracked and tears shimmered in her eyes. "Is it because I'm fat?" My heart shattered. "Because you deserve someone that looks like you? Someone who looks good in an evening gown?"

"You looked stunning last night."

"Not to them. They just saw me as some pitiful fat girl." I turned my body toward hers and pulled her into my chest.

"You are more than your body. They have no right to say those things about you."

"They looked at me as if I wasn't supposed to be there. Like I didn't deserve it. Why don't they like girls like me?"

"(Y/n), there are no girls like you."

"You damn well know what I meant, Tom." I ran my hand through her wet hair and played with the ends.

"I love you. All of you. Every last inch."

"But—"

"Don't let others influence you. It doesn't matter what they think. It doesn't even matter what I think."

"But I like your opinion."

"Then you can let that one influence you," I chuckled. "I think you're beautiful." I held her to my chest and leaned back so we were lying down. "But all that matters is what you think."

"I think I'm fat."

"Do you think you're beautiful?"

"Sometimes, I guess."

"The two don't have to be mutually exclusive. You can be fat and beautiful."

"But there's such a negative connotation."

"Then make it your own. Take the word 'fat' and turn it into something you can love." I kissed the top of her head. "You don't even need to use the word. Call yourself something you're comfortable with—something you can own." She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.

"How about 'yours?'" she mumbled into my chest.

"Alright. You are mine." She looked up and really smiled for the first time that night. "And you're also my taste tester. I saved you some pasta."

"I'll eat it if I can have more wine."

"You should eat it because it's good for you to eat, not because you get an incentive."

"Can I still have more wine?"

"I'll see what I can do," I laughed. She kissed my chest and nuzzled her face into my shirt.

"Thank you, Tom."

"No thanks necessary." I sat us back up and held her close. "I'm just loving you the way you deserve."


End file.
